


The Seamstress

by ArtHistory



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Belly Kink, Corsetry, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: How do superheroes look so fit? Sure, they train hard, but at the end of the day, isn't that body just impossible to maintain? There has to be a least a little bit of...reshaping going on, especially around the tummy, right?There is.Oh god, there is...





	1. A Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aris_Silverfin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/gifts).



Corruption.

That was the only word for it. Well, the only word the tiny, shouting voice in the very back of Piotr’s mind could conjure as the metal mutant pants, comically overfilled for the fifth time this week. The bright light of the open fridge illuminates the broad, wide curve of his gut, a trickle of something white running down it as-

Oh, goddamn it. He’s chugging whole milk straight from the carton. Did he want to get fat?!

And yet Piotr can’t stop himself. Adam’s Apple bobbing, cheeks bulging as he chugs the entire container down, placing the empty, plastic thing back into the now-mostly-empty fridge for someone to make annoyed small talk about tomorrow.

This was Wade’s fault. Wade Fucking Wilson had started this terrible of habit of midnights snacks, bringing Piotr cookies. Ordering him late-night takeout. Handing him mug after mug of cocoa as their friendship blossomed and bloomed in the soft glow of the kitchen after hours. Wade’s hand reaching out, laying over Piotr’s own and-

A-And that was it! Just some…growth for their friendship. That was all.

Well, growth for their friendship…and for Piotr’s gut.

He groaned much louder than he’d meant to, reaching out and grabbing his sixth…seventh slice of cold pizza? It vanished into his big mouth too fast for Piotr to really conceptualize it, settling in his gut like lead.

The Russian smoothed his hands up either side of the indecently bloated thing, exposing more and more chrome skin to the open air, Piotr’s mouth falling open at just how…just how BIG it looked.

Wade Fucking Wilson.

Too many nights staying up talking, eating with the FOOL who’d ruined his sleeping pattern by staying up for 72 hours straight watching _Golden Girls_ at .75 speed to “better understand the lore”. Now Piotr was trapped, stuck in a bad habit that was making him.

Piotr licked his lips, spying the very last slice of cake in the back of the-

He shook his head, standing with as much speed as he could, slamming the fridge door with enough force that a hairline crack spread down it’s center. That was…probably fine. This was his final stuffing! The great, grand finale!

Piotr tugged his shirt back down as far as it would go, chuckling to himself, unabashedly rubbing, stretching, relaxing the comically overfilled blimp at his waist.

Then he froze like a deer in headlights.

Emerging from bathroom was none other than the hyper-fit anti-hero himself. Piotr opened his mouth to speak, Wade waving a hand in his direction, smiling wide-

Hiking up his supersuit to reveal red and black shapewear covering his scarred form.

"No worries, big guy, I'll put you in touch with my seamstress" Wade flirted still moving towards the towering hero, blowing him a kiss and daring to give his belly a pat as he walks by.

He paused, a breath away from Piotr, leaning in close.

"You should see my ass without compression shorts." He winked, continuing down the hall with a hum.


	2. A Work of Art

Piotr swallows hard in the small office.

The woman across from him is not even half his height, hunched over as she is. Her hair is as silver as his rock hard skin, and she's had no less than 6 cigarettes since he walked through the door an hour again.

The cookies on the table are buttery, quite good. They feel...homey. Still warm.

Piotr has eaten after least three for every cigarette the tiny woman has smoked.

"Okay. You are large boy. Russian."

Piotr opens his mouth, she's waves a hand.

"Was not question. Am Latvian. Know Russian fluently."

Piotr smiles, opening his mouth again.

"A filthy language for pigs."

Piotr frowns, his mouth shutting quickly.

Her faces nearly splits from laughter.

"Oh ho ho! Come now? Where is sense of humor? You are pig boy. Is nothing to be shamed of." The tiny woman says, forcing another cookie into his hand.

The entire hour she had been silent. Looking at Piotr and writing, squinting her tiny, hooded eyes at him.

"You men come to me when you get fat. Say you will lose weight, but always get fatter. I thought friend of Wade would at least be up front about such things." She said, waving a hand at Piotr's still-sucked-in gut.

He flushes. Relaxes it.

She grins.

"Ah, yes. Very good." She says, standing and turning the piece of paper to face Piotr.

The design is...beautiful. A work of art.

"Will be silver. Same color as pig boys beautiful skin." She...compliments? Piotr can't tell. But she's smiling another big, toothless smile.

She lights another cigarette.

Piotr coughs into his fist.

"Come back tomorrow. Will be ready." She says, folding over the fabric beneath the cookies and placing the now sack of them into Piotr's right hand, the design into his left.

"No charge. Tell wade he owes me favor. I will have shapewear for you by 3 pm." She says, already turning forcing him to stand, walking the Russian to the door

"Tell Wade do not be stranger. And finish cookies on walk home, pig boy." The tiny woman grins, those eyes suddenly looking much younger, girlish as she cheekily pats Piotrs ass.

He blushes as the wooden door slaps it as he leaves. That...that was the door, right?

He finishes the cookies before he's even down the stairs of the small apartment building, sucking the sugary butter from his fingers and relaxing his gut completely.

He sighs, feeling...gods...amazing.

He quickly sucked it back in as a trio of women jog passed, blushing fiercely and powerwalking in the direction of home.


	3. A Surprise

Piotr was blushing so hard when he informed Wade that evening what his...friend had offered he was surprised there was any blood left in him at all.

Oh, but there was.

Jesus, there was.

Wade had grinned like a madman when he'd opened the door, and Piotr's blushing face and twitching, mammoth cock immediately knew why.

Wade had greeted him...nearly nude.

His huge, mountainous gut rolled forward, blooming through the doorway and kissing Piotr's own, relaxed stomach as soon as the door opened. His deepened navel could easily fit two of the Russians fingers, gorgeous stretch mark radiating out from its scarred center.

No less than three rolls stacked upon his flabby sides, culminating in love handles that bulged and blorped over the stretched fabric of the tiny panties the man was wearing. A meaty pair of tits rested atop the shelf of Wades gut, dark brown nipples visible beneath a pink, sheer bra.

The man's arms were flabby, doughy and only out-thickened by his snogging thighs, hips wide enough to kiss the doorway as Wade leaned through it, his gut pressing more and more into Piotr's middle, his crotch, the Russian struggling to find words until finally he was choked by his arousal as Wade, standing on tip toes, murmured into his ear.

"She'll want to prove it works. Show up completely full, and even then, expect to eat another tray of cookies." Wade purred, pulling back and winking,

"Nighty night, fellow secret fatty."

The door closed, and Piotr was breathless, palming his crotch in reckless need as he charged towards the kitchen.

Wade kept his ear to the door, only smiling and heading to bed when he heard the door of the fridge ripped from its hinges.


	4. A Model Hero

The cookies had jam in them, this time.

Thumbprints of...strawberry? Raspberry? It had tasted like something in between.

The woman had laughed, tugging Piotr up from the table as he opened his mouth, "Family secret. I will not tell." The woman said, having spent the entire hour of their meeting once again hunched over a small slip of paper, hushing him and shoving the now-empty, then frighteningly full plate of cookies toward Piotr any time he attempted to speak.

"Already fatter. Am only little bit surprised." The woman said, Piotr blushing bright as he let his overstuffed gut sag forward into the open air. He'd hit up not one, but two buffets before arriving on-time for his appointment with the seamstress, attempting to be discreet but veritably attracting stares. Stares if not from his silver skin, then certainly from the inhuman amount of food he'd consumed.

It was impossible for him to suck it in as of now, though it had been slightly worth it to see the shocked, then impressed look in the woman's tiny eyes.

It hadn't stopped the onslaught of cookies. But still.

Worth it.

"Heroes, just like all men. When are happy? Eat, drink, fuck. When are stressed? Eat, drink, fuck." The woman said, forcing Piotr to hold his arms straight out, moving around him in slow circles, scribbling on her little piece of paper.

"And what are heroes doing always? Saving people, stopping end of world. You do well? Very happy. Do bad? Very stressed. So eating, drinking, fucking constantly." She said, waving her little, gnarled hand in the air for emphasis.

"Think of five hero? All are secretly fat."

Piotr's eyes shot wide. He opened his mouth.

"No, not him. Flash! Pleh! Little American stick boy. No ass." The woman said, spitting on the floor in abject disgust.

She smiled, standing directly in front of Piotr's bulging, groaning middle.

She looked up at him, for some reason quite pleased.

"Are unique, Russian pig boy. Quiet. Polite. I see why loud mouth, American cow Wade Wilson like you." She said, hobbling towards the back of the room.

She held up a large piece of perfectly matched, silver fabric.

She looked at her paper.

One, two, three swipes with a needle, and she was waddling back over.

"Here. Put on."

Piotr swallowed, reaching out and taking the garment offered.

He slid it over his handsome face, his square jaw.

It was gently tight on his beefy chest, then tight, but not too tight on his middle. Like he was being hugged with enthusiasm

"Ah, now look. Handsome Russian gymnast." The seamstress said, waving at Piotr's...oh wow

Colossus looked down at himself. He looked...skinny! Trim! Fit!

Fitter than he'd looked even at the height of his workouts!

He flexed his huge arms, the tiny woman clapping her tiny hands.

"Yes, yes! There! Model hero." She said, patting Piotr's now-flat stomach.

She handed the man his shirt, which he put on eagerly, buzzing with excitement.

"No more burning calories from sucking in, huh? Can focus now on just enjoying body." She said, Piotr immediately blushing.

The seamstress only smiled wider, guiding him towards the door, another small sack of cookies finding themselves into Piotr's hands

"Come back when ass gets fatter, pig boy." She winked, and then the 'door' once again smacked the huge Russian on the ass.

He happily whistled to himself, slowly munching through the cookies as he walked down the steps.

The three, jogging women went by once more, immediately colliding with each other as heads turned to ogle the huge, metal hunk.

Colossus chuckled to himself, rubbing a hand down his front and tossing the now-empty sack behind him.

He hailed down the first hot dog salesman he saw.

"Hello, friend." Piotr beamed, friendly as can be

"How much for all of cart?"


End file.
